Sodom & Begorra

There’s Bethlehem and Cheltenham, Lourdes and Limerick Junction
Medjugorje or a rub of the extreme unction
Good people climb Croagh Patrick with serenity on their faces
But I found my salvation, below at the Galway Races
Clergymen dressed up like men and models home from London
Whallup and how’s she cuttin' John? Begod sure only Middlin'
Gamblers with big wads of notes, going mad to gamble
Na boys' isteach as inverin, there just to take a ramble
Helen Lucy smells the mattress and reviews the hairy bacon
Says Mickey Finn to Galligan, hey Peter what are you takin'?
Shish kebabs, Kinvara crabs as people stuff their faces
Others couldn’t eat to save their lives below at the Galway Races
Its there you’ll see gentility and sheep dressed up like mutton
Double barrelled names with more airs than old melodeons
The talk is all of tillage and of silage and con acre
I tell you scraws and bottoms would be closer to the mark sir
Sir John Muck Savidge-Smythe is there with Smurfit’s and O’Reilly’s
Owners and trainers, stable boys and jockeys
With silk around their arses getting up on rich mens' horses
Not to mention wives and daughters and marriages and divorces
There’s pontoon, twenty five and there’s savage games of poker
There’s them would lay their lives on two flies walking up the wall sure
There’s wise men from the east making eyes at go-go dancers
And ministers of state accepting drinks from terrible chancers